


Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combinations

by ryouseiteki



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Desmond Miles Lives, MerMay, MerMay 2019, Merman Desmond
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-04
Updated: 2019-05-04
Packaged: 2020-02-18 15:43:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18702589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ryouseiteki/pseuds/ryouseiteki
Summary: The thing is. Altair did know how to swim.The thing is. Desmond has more in his DNA than even the Isu could have calculated.





	Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combinations

**Author's Note:**

> HAPPY MERMAY!
> 
> Sorry that this is kind of short, I typed it up in one session and then got kinda stuck. Posting what I have so far because it's the first thing I've managed to write in a while and want it out there before I decided to hide it away forever like the gremlin I am

The first time Desmond-as-Altair slips off a post and misses grabbing the edge of the pier, he doesn't think about it until his ancestor is submerged and his not-actually-in-the-water-of-the-past body instinctively seals his lungs off in preparation to shift.

He desynchs immediately, coming to on his back on the doctor's crazy memory machine, choking and sputtering as his body convulses in confusion, caught between slitting open his gills or unsealing his lungs. The doctor's assistant, Lucy?, is fluttering her hands over the computer. She's quick, but he still almost brains himself on the retreating visor as he flails off the bed to the merciless cement, curling into himself with painful wheezes. 

Vidic tuts, "Get up, Mr. Desmond. You're not actually dying so save yourself the dramatics. If you hold to the same pattern as the other Subjects, you're going to fall and get stabbed quite often looking for our information, and you better not react this way every time." The Doctor eyes Subject 17 haughtily down his nose as Desmond climbs to his feet, using the side of the Animus for balance. "We don't have time to cater to your hysterics. Get back into the Animus."

"Doctor, we should let Desmond rest. This is the first time he's had a one-step desynch," Lucy says, not looking up from where she's typing on the computer, as always.

Vidic sneers, but thankfully allows it. "You have an hour," he says, and moves to take a seat at his desk.

Desmond doesn't even take the time to speak to Lucy as he normally would. He just stumbles over to his cell to collapse face first on the hard mattress, whole body one large ache of interrupted transformation.

From then forward, he has Altair avoid water with prejudice. No other single-desych is quite as jarring as having his insides clench up outside the Animus while his mind is trapped within it. That, and he doesn't want to know what other 'tests' Abstergo would subject him to if they knew.

Later, escaped from the Templars and introduced to Rebecca's 'baby,' he finds it difficult, but not impossible, to continue the memories when Ezio needs to dive into the Canal. It's an uncomfortable experience, and feels a bit like he's being strangled, but he manages. No one says anything, so his body must be behaving itself.

He fights to keep it to himself, and then between himself and his father, all the way until the day he places his hand onto the Eye of the Grand Temple. 

He succeeds.

* * *

They called it the Shift. And unlike the Sense, or Eagle Vision, which was somewhat commonly known amongst the Assassins as a whole; those with the Shift were on a need to know basis, kept between others with the ability and the Mentor himself. 

Those born and raised on the Farm were taught their first swimming lessons one-on-one at the river's edge in case the child showed signs of it's development, whether that be a couple of sprouted scales, gills, webbing, claws, or a combination thereof. Until Desmond, of course, it wasn't known that one could lose their legs completely, exchanging them for a muscular tail almost twice the length of the rest of his body.

It was yet another thing to separate him from his peers. 

Strange, special, stubborn Desmond. He, the son of the Mentor. He who had the Sense stronger than they'd seen in decades - possibly ever. He who wanted to leave the safety of the Farm and travel, if only to the nearest city. He whose Shift just had to be different than all the others, where his humanity edged on the thin line of land and water in a new and detrimental way. He, who didn't even believe in the existence of the Assassin-Templar war until it was too late.

After all, what were legs good for if not running?

* * *

The ground trembles as the three Assassins carry their downed fourth from the imploding Temple, desperate to leave before the Templars arrive but unable to leave him there to be scavenged by their enemies. It's night, but the world outside the ruins is lit up like the fiercest of midday, the sun bearing down upon the Earth and only kept at bay by the unnatural Aurora powered by Desmond's sacrificial use of the Artifact. 

Rebecca climbs shakily into the back of their packed up van, reaching out for Shaun and William to pass her their friend and son's body. She cries loudly and messily, clinging to his corpse as William presses the pedal to the floor and Shaun hangs on to the oh-shit-handle, for once not voicing his many and varied complaints. They do their best to ignore the sobs from the back and avoid looking at each other, silent tears trailing down their own faces.

It's easy to reach the dock - any civilians awake at this hour are stopped on the side of the road and squinting at the sky in awe or panic.

It's not so easy to do what they have to do.

There's no time to hold a proper funeral for him. Nor is there any telling when they'll be far and safe enough away to do it either. And dragging along this, this empty shell in the interim feels both disrespectful and heartbreaking.

So, halfway across the New York Harbor and only able to idle for a moment if they want to stay ahead of the Templars, William gently lowers his son into the water. They only wait long enough to watch as the body bobs once, twice, and turns gently in the water onto it's front, slowly sinking, before they continue on their flight. Sore at leaving him behind, but grateful they didn't have to leave him where enemy hands could reach.

Behind them, Desmond's body reaches the floor of the Harbor with a soft thump, displacing a small cloud of sand and bits of shell.

Deep in the darkness where even the light of the solar flare cannot reach, amber eyes open, flashing gold.

**Author's Note:**

> Not sure where to take it from here, but toying with the idea of crossing over with Prototype.


End file.
